


Stylish in the Snow

by Saraste



Series: FICMAS 2020 [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established sansaery, F/F, Ficmas, Holiday Season, Inadequate winter gear, Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Sansa dresses sensibly in winter, Margaery... does not.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Series: FICMAS 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034025
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Stylish in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt: "Aren't you cold like that?" from [this promptlist](https://ravenclawnerd.tumblr.com/post/168450105661/winterchristmas-writing-prompts).

Sansa was born in the snowy and cold north and so dresses sensibly when it’s winter, for comfort and warmth, although in style. For her that means a long wool coat with thick knitted mittens and a scarf and a hat, finished with her feet warm in fur-trimmed leather boots that can withstand even the fiercest of colds. And she _never_ wears a mini-skirt underneath when it’s really cold, not even to a party. Unlike some people.

Margaery, on the other hand, comes from the mild south with no proper winters to speak of and hasn’t quite yet adapted to the north with its snowy, cold and windy winters. She is always trying to get Sansa to move to a warmer climate, maybe her native south, but so far, they are at a stale-mate.

She dresses most for style, less for weather, and there will come a day she gets frostbite.

‘Aren’t you going to get cold like that?’ Sansa asks her as they’re leaving for the Solstice party her family is hosting, the weather is freezing cold and the snow is coming in such bountiful quantity that it’s starting to pile up rather quickly. She is sensibly attired in her nice winter-things in deep rich blues, knowing her face will be the only thing feeling the cold snap when she opens the door.

‘Not a bit,’ Margaery says and Sansa believes that she believes she’s telling the truth, even when the statement is nothing but.

Margaery’s admittedly winter-ready boots reach her knees, yes, but there is at least three inches covered only by thighs between the tops of them and the fur trim of her coat. The mini-skirt underneath the coat _is_ pretty, to be sure, but Sansa wishes that her love would be a little more sensible when dressing for the outdoors, never mind they’re taking a car. Well, at least she has a scarf and lined leather gloves, even if there is no hat, as it would ruin her hair.

‘You’ll catch your death in that,’ Sansa feels that it’s her duty to say, even when Margaery won’t listen to her, she rarely does when it comes to outdoor clothes.

Margaery sniffs, arranging her fluffy lace-knit scarf so it covers her hair rather like a hood, the crimson setting off her pale skin beautifully. ‘I’m stylish.’

‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ Sansa says, conceding defeat and thinking that Margaery _is_ an adult and is allowed her own adult choices, even if they might be stupid ones. As always, there is a wool blanket in the backseat, just in case.

She doesn’t smile at the shocked gasp she hears from behind her when she opens the door, she doesn’t. And she absolutely does not tell Margaery “I told you so” when she complains of the cold once they finally reach their destination, by which point the snow is coming in a billowing whiteout and they have to wade ankle-deep just to reach the front door of Sansa’s childhood home, had barely been able to park.

And she certainly doesn’t say anything when Margaery develops a sniffle before 9PM and complains about feeling unwell. Sansa only tucks her into her old bed and snuggles in next to her to warm her up with a promise to bring her some tea with honey later on.

‘At least I didn’t get frostbite,’ Margaery sniffles and Sansa cannot keep her laugh in.

Yes, at least there’s that, and there are far worse things than getting stuck in her old room with a sniffly wife over the holidays.


End file.
